Clones?
by Nocturnal-Ivy
Summary: Yay! First story! Malik and Bakura are roommates, just roommates. One evening a friend of Malik's turns up and he looks just like Bakura! Is there a clone of Bakura running around the city? And what is Malik hiding? sorry crappy summary There may be smut.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Bakura woke to the sound of Saturday night quiz call. He growled irritably at the annoyingly preppy bint on screen, wearing far too much make-up and way too little clothing.

He switched the TV off, throwing the remote across the room and lay down to go back to sleep.

The doorbell rang.

"Godamnit! What do you have to do to get some sleep around here!"

He stalked to the heavy wooden door and wrenched it open effortlessly, to find himself glaring at a boy of about Malik's age.

Bakura just stared, eyes wide, at the shivering boy.

"Bakura, who- Ryou!" Malik flew past, gently pushing Bakura aside and pulled the freezing boy into the house.

Bakura just stood there, momentarily frozen by the shock of staring back at his own face. Well, almost.

He closed the heavy wooden door and turned.

The boy was now sat on the sofa on which Bakura had been trying to sleep prior to his arrival. As Bakura studied him, he noticed subtle differences between them. The boy's pale hair was soft and fluffy, spiking gently. His bangs falling forward to shield his eyes from view. His eyes were, unlike Bakura's, wide and innocent, pools of melted chocolate. Bakura's own eyes were sharper, pointed, tainted by the faint echo of what could only be called malice. They also hid a deep pain, etched into his being.

But Bakura would never let that show. He had a strong dislike for weakness.

"Bakura?" Said male turned to find Malik looking at him. "Can you make Ryou some hot cocoa?"

Bakura stared for a moment; Malik was certain he would refuse outright. However, Bakura nodded and proceeded into the kitchen. Malik followed shortly after, arriving in preparation to take Ryou the cocoa.

The teen gasped as he felt Bakura's hand roughly grasp his shoulder and shove him roughly into the fridge.

"Why does he look like me?" Bakura growled so lowly that the words were almost lost in favour of a guttural roar.

The Egyptian was startled. "I don't know Bakura."

However startled, Malik never showed fear towards Bakura. "But he's not the only one."

Bakura's grip tightened. "What?" He was beginning to hiss now. "Are you telling me that there are more people who look like me?"

Malik nervously met his gaze. 'Crap! Well, he had to find out sooner or later.'

"No, not like you."

Bakura's expression remained blank.

Malik sighed. "Perhaps I should just show you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ryou was still sat rigidly on the sofa, hands clutching an untouched mug of cocoa. Bakura now sat next to him, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye. However, most of his attention was drawn to Malik, who was on the phone.

"I know it's late, I'm sorry but it's important. Please, I need you to come over. Okay thanks."

Malik closed the phone and sighed gently.

"So who is this mystery person Malik?" Bakura's tone was mocking.

"You'll find out in about 5 minutes."

The next five minutes were silent. Malik sat on the chair furthest from Bakura, his gaze averted, trying not to look at his roommate.

Bakura lounged comfortably on the sofa. Or as comfortably as one can when sitting next to their clone.

Ryou sat in the same position he had all evening.

The silence was broken by the doorbell ringing.

Malik launched himself from his seat and stood before the front door, blocking Bakura, who had risen to answer it.

When he arched an inquisitive eyebrow, Malik smiled nervously. "Well, I suppose it's time to reveal my secret, huh?"

He turned and opened the door, revealing something Bakura never expected to see.

It was Malik's clone.

The tanned skin was the same shade of caramel; the blond hair was the only thing that easily distinguished them. Malik's was volumous and bouncy but this stranger's was down right gravity defying! The blond bangs hovered either side of his face and the rest spiked up in chaotic organisation. The violet eyes were the same shade, although there was something in the stranger's.

A glimmer of danger?

Bakura gaped at him, then at Malik and then Ryou, before his eyes finally flicked back to rest on the stranger once again.

"I know I should have told you before." Malik spoke softly. "This is Marik."

Bakura turned his head to the smaller teen, staring incredulously. "What the fuck Malik! You've been running around with some fucking clone of yourself and you don't even tell me that there's some brat running around that looks like me?"

"Bakura calm down! Please! It was complicated."

Bakura hit him.

Malik froze, his face turned to the left. The angry red mark on his cheek proved the force of Bakura's strike. Marik stepped from his side, shielding him from Bakura.

Said male was also frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape. He couldn't bring himself to believe that he had just hit his best friend. Malik had been like a younger brother to him. The brother he had never known in Egypt.

He blinked.

Malik turned his face towards Bakura, eyes dull with defeat.

Bakura stepped back. "No… that look… not that…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Flashback

Bakura opened his eyes to smoke and heat. He scrambled to his feet in a hurry to escape the choking smoke that stung his eyes and burned his throat.

Fire.

Kuru Eruna was on fire.

His home was burning to the ground while he could only stand there. Helpless.

He turned on his heels, weaving through the maze of streets and small, crumbling houses.

He was about to round the corner that would take him home when he heard them.

Heard the screams.

Loud, piercing screams of agony. Slicing through the heavy air.

He slowed, heart hammering in his chest. He crouched low as he peered around the corner. He unwittingly released his stance and fell to his knees.

His family were lined up along the wall, restrained by the pharaoh's soldiers.

His mother gripped tightly to the shoulders of his brother, tears flooding down her face. Her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

His father was pleading with the soldiers, begging them to take him and spare his wife and son.

One soldier laughed. A dark, hollow sound. He stepped toward the begging man; his grin was that of a wolf as he kicked the walking stick from his hands, laughing louder as the injured man fell to the ground, winded by the impact.

One man came forward with what looked like a set of solid gold scales. He paused for a moment looking at Bakura's family with an inquisitive expression on his face.

Finally, he turned to the soldier nearest and whispered something in his ear before turning and walking from the scene, cloak whipping violently in the wind.

The soldier crouched by the man on the ground, leering madly.

Bakura winced as the soldier grabbed his father by the throat and stood, lifting him clear from the ground.

He didn't see what happened. It all happened too fast. He turned to his mother when her scream filled the square. She was staring, still screaming loudly, at the soldier and Bakura's father.

He looked back at his father, his eyes having wandered to his mother and brother for a moment, his mouth opened in a scream that he had to block with his hand.

His father was laid out on the ground, blood pooling in a wide arc around his prone form. Bakura forced himself to look away from the bloodied corpse, finding his eyes glued to those of his father.

He stared at the ground in front of his knees, his father's eyes pleading for him to run.

He turned back to his mother, eyes still wide in horror and hand still covering his mouth in fear that he would scream... or vomit.

He was frozen in horror as soldiers advanced on the small woman. She had stopped screaming but clutched the shoulders of her son even more tightly, forcing him to stay behind her.

The nearest soldier grabbed Baranh, tugging him viciously from his mother's grip, her nails leaving deep, red welts in Baranh's golden-brown skin.

"NO! BARANH! LEAVE HIM ALONE! LEAVE HI-"

Her screams and protests were cut off by the strike across her face. Baranh stood in forced silence, the soldier's hands restraining him from moving or shouting. He struggled but fell still when his mother was struck.

The tears fell heavily down his cheeks when the soldier reached to his waist, pulling the heavy, bronze sword, shaped like the sickle used often in farming, from his belt. The metal glinted malevolently in the sun as the soldier raised it. Bakura's mother fell silent closing her eyes, though that did little to slow the flow of tears, and crossing her arms across her chest. Bakura recognized his mother's desperate method of prayer; she had used it often when they sheltered from the wild sand storms that constantly tore through the country.

Baranh began to struggle again, the hand muffling his furious shouts and desperate pleas. The scream however was clear, despite the heavy hand clamped upon his jaw.

The soldier stabbed his mother once, through the stomach and caught her as she slumped forward. It was a merciful murder, though that did nothing to cool Bakura's fury, his shock the only thing preventing him from racing to the soldier and hacking him to pieces with his own sword, the soldiers rarely killed women and they certainly did not enjoy it when they had to do so.

The soldier holding her gently laid her on the ground, closing her eyes with his fingertips.

Then he turned on Baranh, whose eyes narrowed dangerously.

Bakura watched in amazement as his brother began his escape. Baranh stamped, hard, on the foot of his captor, thrusting his hand to his waist and grabbing his sword. He spun quickly, forcing the blade deep into the soldier's chest.

He gave a satisfied smirk as he pulled it from the slackening body and turned to the soldier that had killed both his mother and father. His eyes narrowed again and the smirk disappeared. He was blinded by fury as he flew towards the soldier.

It happened even faster than with his father.

One moment, Baranh was charging towards the stunned soldier, the blood-drenched sword held high.

The next, he was pinned against the wall, the sickle shaped sword buried deep in his abdomen. The soldier holding the sickle leered psychotically at his last victim.

A choking sob tore from Bakura's throat, somehow passing the hand that attempted to muffle its sound.

The soldiers either didn't hear it or they thought that the sound had been made by Baranh.

Baranh, however, looked up sharply at the sound, his eyes meeting Bakura's.

The smaller boy flinched away from the look in his brother's eyes.

They were dull, defeated.

Baranh had accepted that he was going to die.

In front of his baby brother.

The sword tore its way up through Baranh's chest. The bones did little to slow the blade; a stomach-turning crunch was heard as each rib shattered. The blood poured rapidly down the blade and the arm of the soldier, occasionally falling to the ground with a sickeningly loud 'drip'.

Bakura spun. His head felt heavy. The air he breathed was fetid and his vision swam. He retched emptily, the air burning his throat.

Worst of all, was the image of his brother, resigned and defeated, staring at him every time he closed his eyes.

His senses ran rampant. Every smell scorched his nostrils. Every sight burned itself into his after vision. Every sound pounded violently against his ear drums.

He could hear every ragged breath his brother took until, finally, across the square, Baranh fell silent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~* End Flashback

Bakura's eyes opened a second time to find himself back in the living room of the apartment he and Malik shared.

He realised he was kneeling, his head clutched in his hands. Malik was stood with one arm reaching toward him, Marik holding him back gently; worried Bakura could lash out again.

"B-Bakura?" Malik's voice was shaky and edged with worry.

Bakura stood quickly, dusting his jeans. "I'm going to bed." His tone was colder than he would have liked but that was better than allowing the tremor to go noticed.

He quickly climbed the stairs, leaving a bewildered Marik, a worried Malik and an almost catatonic Ryou in the living room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The smell of blood was thick in the air, smothering his nostrils. He could taste the metallic tang in the air. And he could hear the agonised screams, slicing through the thick silence.

Opening his eyes, the glaring sun blinded him, movements blurring and unfocused.

The former soldiers lay, scattered around the square, eyes wide in shock, white tunics stained crimson. The blood stained the sand, a lasting memory of the event. Only a small boy, pale hair and caramel skin moved.

He knelt by the body of the largest soldier, hands and arms coated in blood, grinning madly. He threw his head back and laughed, a cruel, hollow sound, maniacal and lacking amusement.

A quiet sob sounded from the edge of the square, a small brunette girl huddled in a doorway, clutching her knees to her chest and tears falling freely down her face.

Bakura smiled at her and stood. He picked up the sickle shaped sword, his smile becoming more of a leer.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut as he approached....

"NO!"

He shot upright, sheets falling from his body in a haphazard manner. His pale skin was drenched in a cold sweat, shivers running up and down his spine.

He sighed, dropping his head in his hands, fists clutching his hair, tugging harshly. His eyes stung. His head swam. His throat burned. And the image of the small girl, paralysed with fear, haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

Her bell-like voice, begging for him to leave her alone, her pleas, her screams, rang in his ears.

He clambered out of the tangle of sheets and headed toward the kitchen. He didn't notice the dim light as he walked to the sink for a glass of water. He turned, leaning against the counter for support and noticed someone lying on the sofa in the living room. He took a step closer and could make out pale, white hair, stuck up in random directions.

He released the breath he had been holding. It was only Malik's friend. He noticed the lamp was still lit on the small table and headed to switch it off.

He leaned over the sofa, reaching for the switch.

"Holy shit!" Bakura leapt back and tripped over the cat. He sat up rubbing his spine. "Ow!" He muttered under his breath as he turned back to the sofa, his eyes narrowing. "You're awake!"

The boy sat up, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, you could have said something." Bakura muttered indignantly.

The boy turned his large eyes to the floor next to Bakura. "How's the cat?" His small voice sounded like a whisper.

"Huh? Oh, I'm sure he's fine."

"I imagine he'd be better if you hadn't tripped over him." The boy giggled.

Bakura chuckled, climbing to his feet. "Touché."

"I'm sorry."

Bakura cocked his head to the left, confused. "For what?"

"Making you trip."

"Oh." Bakura grimaced at the memory.

The boy giggled again.

"What?"

"You've gone red." Ryou chuckled.

Bakura felt his face heat up again but he joined the boy in laughing. "So, what's your name? I didn't catch it before."

The boy smiled. "I'm Ryou."

"Hmmm. Ryou. So Ryou," Ryou tensed, "how do you know Malik?" Bakura was surprised at himself. Was he actually making small talk with some boy that looks exactly like him?

The boy relaxed. "Malik and I go to the same college. We both took the same archaeology course."

"Oh." 'So maybe boy wasn't the best description, he's at least seventeen.' Bakura thought to himself. "Archaeology huh?"

"Yeah. My Dad's an archaeologist and I've always been fascinated by Ancient Egypt." Ryou's expression became dreamy.

Bakura's expression tightened at the words 'Ancient Egypt'. He looked at the floor.

"Are you okay, errm..." Ryou trailed off.

Bakura looked up. Ryou's expression was one of concern.

"I'm sorry; I don't know your name." Ryou muttered, embarrassed.

Bakura smiled. "Bakura. My name's Bakura."

Ryou blinked but stayed silent, staring at Bakura.

"What?"

"Bakura. That's my surname."

Bakura blinked this time. "Seriously? Whoa."

Ryou smiled uncomfortably.

"So Ryou."

Ryou looked up, meeting a familiar deep chocolate gaze.

"What brought you here, um," he looked at the clock, it read 4.53am, "last night?"

Ryou suddenly looked scared. His eyes widened, the chocolate brown pools catching the dim light of the lamp. His breath hitched in his throat and shivers attacked his spine.

"I-I w-w... I visited... I..."

"Hey, relax. You don't have to tell me. I just thought it might help if you did. You were practically comatose this afternoon." Bakura smirked.

Ryou smiled weakly. "I was visiting my mother and sister's graves."

Bakura waited patiently.

"I-I saw her. I saw Amane." Ryou whimpered. "She was angry at me. She said it was all my fault Mom died. That she died." Tears began trailing down his cheeks. "My mom died giving birth to me. Amane died from a severe blood disease about a year later."

Bakura nodded. "I'm sorry Ryou."

Ryou didn't answer; he just stared at the floor, tears running down his face.

"I know how you feel. I lost my parents too and my brother."

Ryou looked up.

Bakura smiled softly. "They were killed a long time ago." Well, it was true. "Soldiers came to our home. I had gone out for the day. I came back and saw my family, lined up against the wall of our small house. My father begged for them to spare my mother and Baranh but they killed him. My mother tried to protect Baranh but they killed her too. Baranh tried to fight his way out but, well, let's just say anger is a harsh mistress." He chuckled darkly.

Ryou's eyes were wide. He stayed silent, unsure of what to say after such a story.

Bakura looked at the clock and sighed. It read 6:01am.

"Well, I'm not getting any more sleep." He turned back to Ryou. "You eat breakfast right?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Credit goes to my friend Hazel for the idea of Bakura tripping over the cat XD


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Malik woke with sunlight warming his skin. He groaned, rolling away from the blinding light and looked at the clock by his bed, 7:12am.

He climbed out of bed and stretched, his shoulders straightening with that ever pleasant popping sound.

Ignoring the unconscious form of Marik, passed out under the sheets, he left the room, deciding he had plenty of time for a shower before the Zombie woke up to hunt. He snickered to himself; Marik really was the walking dead in the mornings.

He wandered slowly along the narrow hallway, turning left and entering the small, white bathroom. The tile was cold on his bare feet, the slight shock ensuring he was awake.

He turned on the water and shut the door, not bothering to be quiet. Why did you need to be quiet when your boyfriend and roommate slept like logs?

He removed his baggy black, cotton trousers and stepped under the hot spray.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Marik has a definition of a good dream. It usually involved a very scantily clad Malik and some form of dessert topping. The dream he was having now happened to be one of those dreams.

Malik walked slowly, teasingly towards him, leather whip in hand. He grinned seductively.

This was usually the time when Malik said something very, very dirty.

Malik opened his mouth to speak.

"HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?" Marik frowned. That was a very odd thing for Malik to say, especially during one of Marik's "happy" dreams.

"MALIK! GET YOUR GODDAMN EGYPTIAN ASS IN HERE NOW!" Why was Malik shouting for himself?

Realisation struck as he fell out of bed, landing heavily on the pale green carpet. "Fucking hell!"

He looked up to see a very angry Bakura standing in the doorway.

"You know, I was asleep." Marik's eyes narrowed in a glare.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?"

Malik sighed. So much for his peaceful shower.

Thud.

Malik snickered as he heard the familiar thud of Marik hitting the carpet.

"MALIK! GET YOUR EGYPTIAN ASS IN HERE NOW!"

Malik groaned, turning off the hot water and stepped out of the shower.

He wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and left the room. As he walked through the bedroom door, he saw Marik on the floor, glaring up at Bakura, who was stood three feet away glaring downwards.

He sighed and Bakura spun.

Marik's jaw dropped as he saw Malik stood wearing nothing but a very loose, very low-riding towel.

"You called?" Malik's tone was innocent.

Bakura's eyes narrowed more than should be physically possible. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

"You know what he's doing here Bakura."

"I mean what is he doing in your bed?"

"It got late last night and I offered to let him stay."

"That still doesn't explain what he is doing in your bed Malik."

Malik sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "He's my boyfriend Bakura."

Malik watched as shock formed Bakura's features for a moment before they clouded over in an expression he couldn't read.

Anger? He gulped. Disgust?

Bakura turned and stormed from the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.

A moment later they heard the front door slam.

Marik stood and crossed the room. "What's his problem?" A look of understanding crossed his features. "Does he have a problem with gay guys?"

"I don't know Marik." Malik's voice was shaking. Marik took his hand and gripped it tightly.

"Just let him calm down and come to terms with it. If he doesn't like it then I'll see you when he isn't around, okay?"

Malik nodded and buried his face in Marik's chest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ryou glanced up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. They were heavy, someone was putting force into them. Venting frustration?

He saw white hair and a dark shirt appear at the base of the stairs. "Bakura?"

Bakura didn't answer. He stormed to the coat rack and grabbed his jacket. It was long, styled like a trench coat but lighter, the tough black material flared out at the tails in an imposing manner.

Ryou heard the clink of keys as they were snatched from the table.

The heavy door creaked as it was wrenched open and shivered under the pressure as it slammed heavily against the frame. Ryou flinched.

The dull growl of a motorcycle starting, grew into a heavy roar and the wheels screeched the tarmac as bike and rider raced away.

Ryou stood staring at the door. He heard the quiet murmers from upstairs and what sounded like a sob. Was Malik crying?

Deciding it would be better for him to leave Malik and Marik alone for a while, he borrowed a jacket from the coat rack, a dark blue denim and left the house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His wanderings had brought him to the park on the north side of the city. It wasn't the nicest place in town so he decided it might be better if he headed back to Malik's. As he turned he noticed a large black motorbike sitting by the edge of the park. It was highlighted with electric blue bolts of lightening. It was a nice bike. Ryou walked over to admire it more closely.

It was a Daytona 675 with a 675cc three-cylinder engine that reached 13,900rpm.

"Like it?"

Ryou nearly leapt out of his skin at the voice, he'd been sure there was no-one behind him and he hadn't heard anyone approach. He wheeled around to face the speaker.

"Bakura?"

Bakura was grinning, clearly enjoying the fact that he'd nearly given Ryou a heart attack. "I saw you admiring my bike so I thought I'd ask your opinion." He was chuckling a little which made Ryou colour with embarassment.

"Y-yeah. Daytona 675 right?"

Bakura grinned. "Yeah, you know much about them?"

"A bit."

Bakura glanced down for a moment before giving Ryou a questioning glance. "Why are you wearing my jacket?"

"Oh, err," Ryou mentally slapped himself. 'Why did I have to pick his jacket? Why couldn't I pick one of Malik's?' "Sorry. I didn't have a jacket, so... I borrowed one. I didn't think anyone would mind." He bit his lip.

Bakura blinked and turned his head away quickly. "Oh okay. That's... that's okay. Not a problem." He turned back and smiled. Ryou noticed the reluctance behind it.

"Anyway, you want a lift back to our place?"

Ryou nodded. "Thanks."

Bakura swung his leg over the seat and held a helmet out to Ryou. It was black like the bike and had smaller lightening bolts decorating it.

Ryou took it and hesitated.

"Something wrong?" Bakura feigned hurt. "Don't you trust me?"

Ryou grinned and with his heart pounding so loudly he was sure the entire city could hear it, he swung his leg over the seat and settled himself behind Bakura, his slender arms finding their way around his waist.

As his face heated, he was glad Bakura couldn't turn and see him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

'he swung his leg over the seat and settled himself behind Bakura' Not like **that** you perverts XD don't deny it, you **know** you giggled :D


	4. Chapter 4

A.N: I'm _really_ sorry that it's taken me so long to update! DX I completely blanked on how to continue and then I lost the files in the chaos of my documents! :S I've found them again recently and decided it was time to write some more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 4

Dinner that night was an awkward affair. Marik and Malik sat at one side of the table with Ryou and Bakura at the other.

Malik kept sending Bakura uneasy glances while Marik looked at Malik nervously.

No-one spoke.

After dinner, Malik and Marik washed the dishes and then headed upstairs while Ryou and Bakura lounged on the sofa in the living room, watching TV with a large bowl of popcorn between them.

Ryou reached for some popcorn but felt his hand brush Bakura's. He snatched his hand away immediately and felt his face flush.

Bakura's hand didn't move so he risked a glance at the other male. He had a small smile on his face.

Then again, they were watching a film that was comprised of hundreds of people being hacked, ripped, bludgeoned and sawn into pieces.

Ryou was constantly cowering into the sofa, resisting the strong urge to bury his face in Bakura's strong, muscular… 'NO! Bad Ryou!'

Bakura noticed the smaller male cringing every time an axe was embedded into somebody's spine or scalp. He smiled to himself, Ryou really was cute sometimes. Completely unaware that he had just thought Ryou cute, Bakura chuckled darkly as a young man's eyes were impaled upon a jagged wire fence.

Ryou grimaced.

Marik and Malik came down the stairs as the film was ending.

"Um, Marik and I were about to head to the mall. Do you two want to come with us?" Malik's voice was still a little shaky.

Ryou smiled and agreed. Bakura agreed reluctantly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They trailed around the mall in a group until Marik and Malik decided to head to the music shop. Marik needed some new guitar strings and Malik was always willing to update his CD collection.

Ryou stood looking a little unsure of what to do. Bakura looked bored.

"This isn't your kind of place is it?" Ryou asked quietly.

Bakura chuckled. "Not exactly." He sighed. "Actually I'm kinda tired. I'm gonna head back."

Ryou smiled. "I'll come with you. I don't need anything anyway."

The sun was setting as they left the mall. They passed through the park, the last rays of sun glinting on the large pond. The park was filled with couples, all enjoying the soft red glow of late evening. Ryou blushed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun had already set when they arrived back at Bakura and Malik's house. The heavy door creaked as Bakura pushed it open.

Bakura once again claimed fatigue and told Ryou to make himself at home before he turned to climb the stairs.

Ryou collapsed onto the sofa and tried to ignore any thoughts of Bakura's bed. He was saved the task as Marik and Malik arrived. Malik leapt onto the sofa beside Ryou as Marik headed into the kitchen for drinks.

"Hey Ryou. We noticed you and Bakura left kinda quickly." Malik smirked coyly.

Ryou blushed and turned his head in an attempt to hide this from Malik. "W-well, Bakura said he was tired and I didn't need anything."

Malik grinned to Marik, who had reappeared carrying glasses of juice and a chocolate milk for Malik. Though he probably drank too much of it.

"Oh. I almost forgot!" Ryou turned back to Malik.

"Ryou, could you go and put this in Bakura's room for me? It's a gift from Marik and I. Hopefully it will warm him up to the idea a bit." Malik smiled timidly.

Ryou smiled and took the silver embossed box from his friend. He rose from the sofa and headed up the stairs. Marik took Ryou's place and wrapped his arms around Malik's waist, pulling him close.

"Are you sure it was wise to send him into a sleeping Bakura's room? Bakura seems the type to favour disembodiment when disturbed."

Malik just snickered to himself. "Well, Ryou is most definately smitten with Bakura. And Bakura, well, he hasn't tried to kill Ryou, that's a good sign."

Marik glanced at his smaller boyfriend. "Bakura doesn't like me but he hasn't tried to kill me."

Malik just stayed silent, smiling to himself.

Marik felt his spine chill.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ryou reached the landing to find four doors, two of which were closed. The third stood open, revealing an empty bedroom, obviously Malik's. The fourth was a study of some sort, though clearly it was preferred as a storage room for assorted bits and bobs. Ryou tried the first door and found a large bathroom. Through process of elimination, he decided that the last door therefore had to be Bakura's.

Should he knock?

If Bakura was asleep, the knocking could wake him. Bakura didn't seem the kind of person who handled premature awakening well.

But if Bakura was awake, it would be rude for Ryou to just barge into his room unanounced. Bakura could be changing. Ryou quickly backtracked away from that thought.

Deciding it would be best not to wake a sleeping Bakura, Ryou decided not to knock. Pushng the door open slowly, he saw that Bakura was indeed asleep. He stepped inside and spotted a desk on which he could put the box. As he was about to put the box down, his eyes wandered to Bakura and noticed that he was sleeping shirtless, the sheets pulled up to his hips, revealing a glimpse of midnight blue boxers.

Ryou's eyes were glued to the sleeping form.

"What are you doing in my room?"

Ryou's eyes met Bakura's and he felt his face heat.

"O-oh, I was just, Malik asked me to put this in your room." Ryou held up the small box. Bakura gave it a glance before turning his attention back to Ryou, who placed the small box down on the desk.

"I was just...deciding where to leave it."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. He could plainly hear the lie.

Brushing that aside, Bakura rose from the bed and walked to the desk. Ryou released the breath he had been holding and concentrated on not staring at Bakura's half naked body.

Bakura leant down and picked up the small silver box. Removing the lid, he found a small siver dagger, the handle inlaid with a gold representation of the Sennen Eye.

Bakura smiled. The movement was subtle but noticable enough for Ryou to see.

Ryou turned for the door. "Um, Bakura? Sorry for waking you."

Bakura waved a hand dismissivley. "Meh, not a problem. Give Malik my thanks." He paused a moment. "And Marik too I suppose."

Ryou stepped out and shut the door. Heading down the hall and walking slowly down the stairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I didn't really think this chapter was quite the same standard as the others :/ I'll let you decide.

But hopefully the next chapter should be better :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Three weeks passed and Ryou once again found himself cowering into the sofa, while Bakura sat, grinning in a painfully psychotic manner, as people were being burned alive by some potent chemical.

Malik arrived downstairs dressed in black jeans, a midnight blue shirt and an irritated looking Marik clinging to his waist.

Detatching himself, Malik proceeded to search for his keys.

Marik slumped in an armchair, looking thoroughly put out.

Ryou blinked. "What's wrong Marik?"

Said male pouted, to which Bakura responded by snorting. "Malik's making me go out to eat."

Bakura chuckled evilly. "Feeling a little cockblocked are we? Well, have good time!"

Marik glared. "You know Bakura? You really are an asshole sometimes!"

"I don't know why you're looking so smug!" Malik called from across the room. "You and Ryou are coming too!"

Bakura's face was frozen in a look of pain.

Marik began roaring with laughter.

Malik stomped over. "Bakura! Go get changed! You can't go out dressed in ripped jeans and an old t-shirt!"

Bakura stood, saluting.

"And you should probably find Ryou something to wear too!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bakura threw open the doors of his wardrobe and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a crisp black shirt, with a small full moon on the breast.

He removed his jeans and replaced them with the clean, dark blue ones. As he pulled off the T-shirt he noticed Ryou just staring at him.

"What are you waiting for? The clothes are in the wardrobe."

Ryou shuffled towards the wardrobe and began rummaging. After a few moments he vanished into Bakura's en-suite bathroom to get changed.

Bakura slid the shirt over his smooth but muscular chest. He left the top three buttons unbuttoned and strapped a leather band around his wrist.

He then proceeded to look for his boots. A pair of heavy, buckled, black motorcycle boots.

His search led him to the door of his bathroom. He knocked on the door.

"Ryou, if my black boots are in there could you bring them out?"

A muffled "Ok Bakura." was his response so he chose to sit on the bed and wait.

About a minute later, Ryou emerged and placed Bakura's botts down on the floor by his feet.

"Thanks." Bakura pulled on his boots and looked up at Ryou.

The younger male was wearing a white T-shirt striped with dark blue, pale denim jeans and a smart black jacket. Had those even been in his wardrobe?

Shrugging mentally he stood and left the room, Ryou following behind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ryou stared out the taxi window, watching the buildings fly past. Marik and Malik were talking animatedly about something but Ryou was too zoned out to realise that they were talking about Bakura.

Bakura himself had decided to head to the restaurant on his bike. He hated taxis with a passion.

He was also banned by all the companies in the city but that's beside the point.

The taxi slowed in front of a small, cosy looking Italian restaurant. Bakura was leaning against the wall, next to his bike.

Marik and Malik climbed out of the taxi first, handing some money to the driver as Ryou exited.

Bakura stood and walked over to them.

They were met inside by a young woman with jet-black hair and large brown eyes. She smiled politely as they approached.

Marik spoke first. "A table reserved under Ishtar."

The young woman scanned her list and nodded. "Right this way Sir." She wound her way expertly through the jungle of tables, eventually leading them to a small table in the back of the restaurant. It was set for four people, candles and roses lining the centre. Bakura visibly paled.

They took their seats and waited for someone to take their orders. The young woman who had shown them their table arrived with a small notebook and a pen.

"My name is Angela and I will be your waitress. If you require anything, please don't hesitate to ask." She smiled again. "May I take your orders?"

Marik and Malik both chose the vegitarian bolognese, Ryou chose mushroom raviolli and Bakura ordered a simple steak. Medium rare.

As they waited, Marik and Malik were engaged in conversation while Bakura took to burning one of the large roses that _had_ been the centrepiece.

Ryou stared, awestruck, at the golden flames consume the flesh of the perfect red rose.

The waitress reappeared with their meals and Bakura immediately doused the flames in the rose vase. The waitress hadn't noticed a thing.

They began eating, making idle conversation as they did so.

Bakura was slicing his steak when he felt someone brush their foot against his leg. He cleared his throat and recieved no response.

"Marik." The sandy blonde turned his attention to Bakura.

"That happens to be _my_ leg you are molesting. If you would kindly cease."

The foot immediately ceased its ministrations as Malik burst into laughter.

Ryou choked and rushed off.

"Thank you." Marik blushed. Bakura however, went back to his steak.

Ryou returned a few minutes later, his face a bright shade of pink.

A couple of tables over, a man returned from the bathroom and began laughing with his friends.

"Oh man! That was classic! There was some guy masterbating in there! He must have been close, he sounded like a little girl who'd just gotten a new doll!"

Ryou sunk in his chair, attempting to hide his blush under his hair. Marik and Malik spared him a glance before turning to each other and grinning.

Bakura merely blinked at Ryou's behaviour.

The dinner ended with no further incidents. Marik and Malik's hands entwined across the table and Bakura rolled his eyes.

He stood with a simple, "Come on." aimed at Ryou.

Bakura led the way back to his bike and held out the spare helmet to Ryou. Placing it on his head and climbing on after Bakura, he wrapped his arms once more around the older male's waist.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bakura pulled up outside the "Drunken Nocturne", a shady looking bar, hidden away in the back-alleys of Domino. The doorman nodded to Bakura.

"Hey Bakura! How's things."

"Not so bad Tag, not so bad."

The man, Tag, glnaced behind Bakura, noticing Ryou remove his helmet.

"Whose the leech?"

Bakura spared Ryou a glance. "He's with me." With that he strode past Tag, beckoning for Ryou to follow.

Ryou stumbled through the door and noticed Bakura already taking a seat at the bar. Ryou claimed the stool next to him. Bakura was talking to the barman so Ryou began admiring a painting on the back wall. It was of a young man wearing a black coat. His hair was styled into a strange combination of a mullet and a mohawk and he was waving around what looked like a blue guitar. He appeared to be completely off his face.

A glass of purple liquid was pushed across the bar to him. He glanced at Bakura, seeing him take his drink and down it.

Ryou took a sip of his own and paled. Bakura laughed and took the drink that was Ryou was offering him. He downed that one too. The barman passed Bakura another one and noticed Ryou staring at the painting.

"How the bar got its name that."

Ryou turned to him.

The barman continued. "He was a regular that guy. What was his name? Dennis? Damien? Oh, I can't remember. Anyway, he gets completely off his face one night and starts dancing around with that weird guitar of his. But he goes and stabs someone with it. Huge fuss. Then the guy just vanishes! Poof! In a cloud of black! Gone, just like that!" The barman snapped his fingers to demonstrate.

Ryou was enthralled, he wanted to hear more. The barman however, had nothing more to say on the topic.

Bakura was on his twelfth 'Purple Nurple' when Ryou rose to go to the bathroom.

Ryou heard the door open behind him and spun. He found Bakura standing behind him, arms folded and an amused smirk on his face.

"What? Did you think I was someone coming to rape you?"

Ryou sweatdropped and tried to hide his blush. "I-I-no-I just-I was-I only thought-" He trailed off as Bakura stepped closer.

Ryou's eyes grew wide.

Bakura smirked and ruffled his hair. "Hehe, I won't rape you." He laughed and turned to leave.

Ryou released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding and closed his eyes.

His eyes flew open as Bakura spun and kissed him.

His eyes stared into Bakura's for a moment before flickering closed, his arms lifting to wrap around Bakura's neck.

Bakura's own arms found their way to rest on Ryou's waist, pulling the smaller male closer as he deepened the kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**XD Just **_**had**_** to put the steak in there somewhere XDD**

**Maybe I shouldn't have been so mean to Ryou. Revealing his 'problem' to an entire restaurant XD**

**Who guessed it was Demyx before I described him? XD No idea why I put him in there, I guess I just find the idea of him getting completely off his face hilarious XD That would probably be the only time he could actually kill someone bless him XDDDD**


	6. Chapter 6

Some time after Bakura and Ryou left, Marik and Malik paid the bill and exited the restaurant. They decided to take a walk around the local park.

Malik sighed and snuggled into the arm wrapped around him. "It's such a beautiful night tonight."

Marik smiled and kissed Malik's forehead. "I love you Malik."

Malik spun free of Marik's arm and flung his own around Marik's neck, kissing the taller male.

"I love you too." He muttered into Marik's lips.

Marik wrapped his arms around Malik's waist, pulling him closer and kissing back.

A low chuckle reached their ears and they broke apart.

"Well what have we got here?" A tall man with dark hair streaked with grey and vivid lilac eyes stepped out from behind three well-built men.

"Long time no see, Marik." The man grinned revealing a perfect set of glimmering, white teeth.

Marik glared. "Not long enough if I'm honest."

The man laughed heartily. "Ah you always were so friendly, weren't you."

Marik shrugged. "I can't say I take a particular liking to thugs."

"Oh now that hurts!" The man feigned pain, clutching his heart. "We're merely investors."

"Investors that enjoy spreading pain and terror throughout innocent neighbourhoods."

Malik turned back to his boyfriend. "Marik, how do you know these people?"

The man smirked. "Oh I'd almost forgotten about you. So Marik, who is this handsome fellow?"

Malik felt Marik tense beside him, the arm around his waist tightening.

"No-one to do with you."

"Oh? Well perhaps I shall be the judge of that." He reached to grasp at Malik but Marik pulled the shorter male behind himself.

The man sighed. "Marik must we do this the hard way every time?"

One of the well-built men siezed Marik, while another dragged Malik away from him and over to the dark-haired man.

Marik struggled against his captor. "Get the hell off me!"

"Marik! Compose yourself, you're causing a scene." The man chided, smirking.

"Let Malik go now!"

"I'll let him go when I'm done. Now shut up." The man began to examine an uneasy Malik.

He lifted a long finger to stroke some strands of hair out of the young man's face.

"So, your name is Malik. How beautiful."

Malik shivered slightly, afraid to react for the huge man grasping his arms.

The dark-haired man nodded for the thug to release Malik before he grasped the teen's hand.

Cupping a bronze cheek the man murmered, "You look so like Marik."

He stroked Malik's hair before wrenching the boy's face forward into a rough kiss.

Malik struggled for a moment but stopped when the man's free arm wrapped around his waist.

Marik slumped to his knees as Malik ceased struggling. Tears pooled in his lilac eyes.

Releasing Malik's lips, the man grinned at the defeated male kneeling on the ground.

"Alright." Marik turned his face to the ground. "You win again Father."

Malik's jaw dropped. "Father!"

The man laughed. "Didn't my dear son tell you _anything_ about himself? Oh well, now you know. Lads, you know what to do."

Marik's captor pulled him roughly to his feet as the dark-haired man shoved Malik to the ground.

It was then that Marik saw the gun.

"You bastard! You tricked me!" Marik began his struggle anew and another of the thugs assisted in restraining him.

"What can I say Marik. It's been too long. I had to make sure I won."

Marik wanted to punch the smug grin from his face as the men dragged him away.

Clambering to his feet, Malik attempted to follow. "Marik!"

He turned and grasped at the dark-haired man's coat.

"Where are you taking him!" He screamed.

The man hit him in the side of the head with his gun and shoved him to the ground again.

"I have what you'd call a _special relationship_ with my son and I've missed him. He'll be well taken care of."

The dark chuckle made Malik sick to his stomach but all he could do was watch with hazy vision as the man walked away.

"Marik." He whispered as he passed into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Marik leant against the cold brick wall with his arms wrapped around his naked body.

The long-chained shackles around his wrists had almost rubbed them raw, the skin a burning pink.

Fresh scratches coated his back and sides, while cuts from a leather whip were scattered accross his legs and chest.

A single tear slid down his cheek as rough hands pulled him to his feet and shoved him forwards to bend over the wooden table in the centre of the room.

The hands glided over his body, soothing the irritated flesh before nails were buried into it.

_I love you Malik._


End file.
